(((Daniel))) I know what you are going through, Busters sadiversary was a
few days ago and it was very hard...it seems that the days leading up to
the
actual death day was harder than the day it happened. I don't know why
that
is. Thinking of you dear friend.
--
Daisy
"Daniel" <deltaechomike@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> wrote in message
news:tp0o54lm4m1dvqis5f5rdbjun4pilcptse@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
> Tonight is the night. These are hard days. Why would the anniversary
> of my mother's sudden death feel worse this year than for the past
> five or so? These are hard days for me.
>
> Thinking of all of you.
>
> What follows is one of my early posts, from July of 2000. It just
> seems right to remember.
>
> - = - = -
>
> :: I am a 42-year old little boy who has lost his Mommy.
> ::
> :: It's been three weeks (and two days) since Mom died. At first it
> was
> :: a week of physical and mental hell. It was like a combination of
> a.)
> :: the flu, b.) bad nightmares, and c.) having to get up and speak in
> :: front of a large group of people (unprepared). Now I alternate
> :: between, on the one hand, telling myself to chill out and not
expect
> :: too much because it's ONLY been three weeks; and, on the other
hand,
> :: telling myself to buck up and get OVER it, because, geez, it's
been
> :: THREE WEEKS!
> ::
> :: The im****tance of sharing especially one part of this experience
> with
> :: somebody has been growing. (This starts out weird, but stay with
> me.)
> ::
> :: = = =
> ::
> :: I had seen the movie "The Matrix" the weekend of June 17, so I
guess
> :: the idea of phones ringing was percolating around my brain for
days.
> :: (If you've seen the movie, you know what I mean.)
> ::
> :: I was having a dream in which I am in a cafe in a downtown
> high-rise.
> ::
> :: Looking out the window, I can see the glass front of another
> :: high-rise. In that other building across a narrow street I can see
> :: my Mom. With her is my grandmother (who died in 1981), and they
are
> :: dressed up as though they are going to a function like a wedding.
> :: My mom has a telephone at her ear, but she is not talking. Instead
> :: she is smiling, waving at me, and pointing at me. No, not
pointing
> :: AT me but BEHIND me. I turn around, and see a pay phone on the
> :: wall. I turn back to my mom, and gesture toward the phone, as
> :: though to say, "What, you want me to make a phone call?" Mom and
> :: Grammie laugh and wave. My Mom still has the phone, and she's
> :: pointing. Just then the phone rings.
> ::
> :: The phone rings. I wake up. I can still hear the phone ringing.
> :: "That's strange," I think, "I can still hear that phone." Then I
> get
> :: it. It's my real phone ringing. I rise and pick up the phone,
but
> I
> :: don't say anything. It's 1:20 A.M. 06-21-2000. Finally, I say,
> :: "Hello?"
> ::
> :: On the phone is my Dad, telling me Mom has been taken to emergency
> in
> :: an ambulance. He says slowly, "The prognosis not good."
> ::
> :: = = =
> ::
> :: Well, Mom had died very suddenly of a massive heart attack, and
was
> :: in fact dead by the time the ambulance showed up, but her
pacemaker
> :: restarted part of her heart, so there was some question to the
> :: paramedics.
> ::
> :: What has me concerned now is that I have NOT been crying. I am
> :: still exhausted, up-and-down, no appetite, headaches, grinding my
> :: teeth. Everybody around me seems to have moved on to other
things.
> ::
> :: Thanks. :~) [That's a smile with tears still running down.]
> ::
> :: -- Daniel.
>
> --
> Daniel ( deltaechomike@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
)
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